


Cluttered Doubt

by eggshits



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Anniversaries, Long-Term Relationship, M/M, Nothing serious, its mostly kind of nice, um its very mildly sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-05
Updated: 2015-06-05
Packaged: 2018-04-02 23:54:05
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4078732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eggshits/pseuds/eggshits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Anniversary (n.) ~ An occasion where Dave routinely gets his shit together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cluttered Doubt

**Author's Note:**

> impulsive writing with minimal editing and im ashamed  
> fuckin retinal burns man  
> protect your children  
> ill go back and edit this later but wow im just  
> sorry

Love is simple. It’s supposed to be, you mean. It’s a simple concept. But the baggage that you’ve had to carry in this shit-storm tango of romance is beyond your understanding. Anyone who has loved, has loved to the point of emotional pain, and it hurts to even bother thinking about how much you care. The self-doubt that circulates in your blood keeps you down and alive at the same time, and it pains you. Even when his presence lingers in your place--his scattered clothing, his little notes, the scent of his cologne on everything you own--you doubt that he really loves you. Because there are the close nights where the headboard of the bed collides against the wall and soft sighs of pleasure melt in your heart and escape past your lips, but there are also the nights where you confide in him and cry into his chest without stopping for a single breath. You don’t mention those nights often, but you know that every time you let a secret slip, it’s a mistake. You manage to convince yourself that he doesn’t care, that he doesn’t understand his importance to you, that when he doesn’t reply it’s because he’s disappointed-- _exhausted_ \--and tired of you.

And tonight?

Well.

Tonight was supposed to be a “close” night. It was your two-year anniversary and John had set up flowers all about the apartment, setting a bouquet in the kitchen sink and next to the toilet as well as in front of the television. He purchased a bottle of champagne along with white wine and littered rose petals on the carpet so that they led to the bedroom. He went to Build-A-Bear and personalized two teddy bears that were renditions of you and him. He personally bought a giant card and wrote down in every empty space reasons he loved you and reasons he cared for you. He really, really outdid himself, and your heart nearly imploded on itself when you saw everything.

But you didn’t understand.

As much as you were brought to tears, as much as your heart thrummed in your chest and your breath halted, you didn’t understand. You looked around and you felt your body warm from the tips of your fingers down to the chambers of your heart.

But how? Why? Why were you deserving?

Why did John Egbert care for the one man who’s done nothing for the world.

And so when you gripped the bouquet of lilies in your fist and the little teddy bear with the  miniature glasses and blue shirt, you couldn’t stop the quiet sobs and hiccups that clawed their way up your throat. You were hurting beyond belief and you didn’t understand; you weren’t happy--you were confused and lost.

He loved you. John loved you. He really did, and that was something you hadn’t believed for the past 729 days of your relationship. For the 1 year and 394 days that you two were together, you didn’t believe a word John said to you pertaining to his love. You were completely convinced, ready to fuckin’ advocate for the John-Egbert-Doesn’t-Actually-Feel-Happiness-When-He’s-With-Dave-Because-He-Has-Repressed-Homophobia-And-He-Actually-Fucking-Hates-His-Boyfriend Youth Group, printing out flyers and preparing meeting times, was gonna make T-shirts for this shit even.

And so when the realization had hit you, you couldn’t stop the tears, and you weren’t able to stifle the sobs tumbling out your mouth.

But John Egbert, of course, thought that this was his fault.

“Oh, god. Dave!! I know that the color orange reminds you of your brother sometimes, but I didn’t think that the lilies were going to hurt you that much oh my god I’m sorry; is this because I went too far? I mean, we don’t have to, like, _you know_ , oh gosh. I mean--the rose petals maybe are too much and I’m sorry, but I thought it was cute! And--oh no, oh no this is worse I’m sorry; why are you crying please don’t cry Dave! Dave, Dave please stop oh no.”

Wiping at your nose, tossing the teddy bear onto the couch, and carefully placing the lilies on the kitchen counter, you manage a small smile amidst your crying fit and you hug John Egbert tighter and closer than you ever have before. You sob into his shirt and you shake in his arms even though your limbs are lanky and you stand a couple inches taller than the brunette. You wrap your arms around him and he waits for you to calm down a bit before speaking once again.

“I’ll make sure to get purple lilies next time. I hear purple is a calming color.”

“Shut the hell up, John--fuck, it wasn’t the flowers.”

“So, was it the rose peta--?”

“No. No it wasn’t. Sorry, fuck I’m just--this is really overwhelming.”

“Oh.”

“It’s. It’s not a bad thing, I don’t think.”

“Oh, well, are you okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you wanna, y’know, talk about this?”

“I’m good, but I mean, we should? I think we should. Because shit, crying boyfriend on an anniversary of all days? Fucking hell to the no; who would want _that_ shit on such a romantic day, certainly not John fucking Egbert.”

“Oh no, you’re gonna start that thing where you get all angsty and oh g--”

“Like shit man, I don’t know about you, but I’m just wondering why you haven’t dropped my ass after you realized what an emotional _shit_  I am. What a fucking mess, right? Might as well alert all these young citizens about the _shitstorm_  that’s gonna go down every single time that Dave _feels_  something. Fuck, buckle your seatbelts and strap yourselves down onto the nearest piece of furniture because weather is about to get as hectic as Sally the Sea Shell Shore lady’s day job during summer vacation when the tourists fucking flock like ass-eating pigeons to the nearest bea--”

“Dave, your rambling is getting nowhere. C’mon, shush. We’ll talk.”

“Okay, well. Okay.”

Holding your hand gently and leading you to the couch, John sat you down and pressed a small kiss to the corner of your lips before tracing little circles into your pale skin. He smiled softly at you and stayed silent, urging you to talk. God, you hated when he did that. It was too quiet for you and you had to talk, had to cover up your thoughts by blurting out words that made no real sense.

“I don’t know. I mean, I thought that you didn’t really love me. At all, I guess.”

“I--really?” He nearly looked hurt at the confession.

“Well, I-uh, I just doubt myself--and others’ beliefs in me--a lot. Like, I just--I overthink. And I can’t think in an organized way. It gets really hard to think, yeah.”

“Oh, Dave.” John looked as if he felt bad and quickly leaned in to place a small kiss on your nose. “I’m sorry; do you want? To?”

“We don’t have to combat this shit right now. I don’t want to. I feel like we should be doing some cutesy and romantic shit, something you’d see on a cheesy romcom. Tonight’s our anniversary; we get to do that shit.”

“Right, but I think we’ll still need to talk about this sooner or later. Hopefully sooner. Because what if something’s wrong??”

“Nothing’s _wrong_ , Egbert; I’ll be fine. Do you want to.. I mean, you had some pretty sexy plans for the both of us I think, but I fucked that up real quick with my little breakdown back there.”

“What about movies? I promise we’ll watch something deemed quality enough for your tastes.”

“Fine, but if you’re choosing, I get to say ‘yes’ or ‘no’ to your choices bro.”

“Gosh you’re no fun. Don’t you want a surprise?”

“Nope.” You leaned into him as he did the same, and wrapped the couch blanket around the two of you.

“Bluh, bluh, I’m Dave Strider and I don’t know how to process feelings and let John have his fun.”

You snickered and retaliated, “Har har, I’m John Egbert and I get my boyfriend diamonds for breathing.”

“Well, I like getting you gifts! And you’re adorable. And nice.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

**  
Quite possibly, for the rest of that night, it was a combination of a close night and a sad one. But there was never going to be denial that you loved this boy throughout your adventures with him, and that he loved you right back--despite the little obstacles littering the way.**


End file.
